figuratively. literally. spiritually.

for just a few days
home in Georgia called my name.
because i was half way there
because i needed to, because i had to.

i ached to see dark skies and millions of stars
i had to get grounded, i needed to reconnect.

i had sit around the kitchen table with my mom and dad, just us.
i wanted to feel the sweet slap of those mutt's tails' on my legs
i needed to listen to silence and let it be bigger than me.

dusk was settling in as me and my mama walked through that back door,
there sat mister dock with a smile on his face
as he stood with a big embrace
he'd been waiting all day, he said.

we shared a few stories,
but i couldn't sit down. my body moved for me
pushing me to the red rocking chair
on the front porch.
red wine in hand, we six sat down;
me, him and her,
the best black dog, red dog and beige dog
perched lazily at our feet.

then rain started falling
and falling hard,
for the first time in weeks, they said.
every inch of the earth began celebrating around us
as if we were watching each blade of grass
grow.

everything but nothing
stood still.

right then, right there
life was at ease,
resounding peace.
figuratively, literally and spiritually...
like rain on a tin roof.